See The Sunrise
by Queen of Winterfell
Summary: They lived on the run for three years, and they were relatively safe. Sure, they had a few slipups, but all in all, life was pretty good for being wanted and hunted. Until it wasn't good anymore. -sterek oneshot. inspired by bleeding out by imagine dragons. i'm not responsible for you drowning in the sorrow of your feels. sorry not sorry. enjoy. oh yeah, major character death.


It was useless and everything was hopeless.

Yet they still fought on, not giving up until they were free.

They hadn't been free for a long time.

Ever since the whole world found out about the existence of werewolves, it had been war. Werewolves against humans against other mythological creatures the innocent never thought existed outside of their movies and TV shows and books. Those who sided with the wolves, whether they were human or otherwise, were killed just the same. The hunters showed no mercy, trying to extinguish the monsters from their world. But it wasn't like the wolves were just going to sit back and become their bitch.

They fought and they fought and they fought. Teeth against daggers. Claws against guns. Peace against evil. The hope that one day they would be able to live in harmony like they did years ago. False hope that one day the tiresome war would finally end and the sun would shine and everything would have meaning once again.

But there were more hunters than werewolves, and soon packs were terminated and their kind was dwindling down by the masses. The war was raging on, and it looked like the hunters were winning.

Stiles ran as fast as his long legs could take him, but it still wasn't fast enough. The hunters were right on him, and with every clumsy trip and stumble, they were getting closer. The rain and moonless and starless sky wasn't helping, either. Not the mention the trees. _Fuck_ the trees. His night vision goggles had fallen off the first time his foot got caught on a stray branch. He really wished he had werewolf vision. But he didn't, so all he had was hope that they wouldn't kill him before he found his pack that he had lost sight of when the fight had begun.

Yes, Stiles was a human. And on the side of the werewolves. His best friend and boyfriend were werewolves, so he didn't really have a choice. Well, he did have a choice, to betray them or fight with them. He loved them too much to choose anything else. Plus, the hunters killed his father, and revenge and freedom were the best things to motivate you to fight in a war.

As he ran, he let his mind wander back to three years ago, when he was a sophomore in high school. His best friend got bit by a crazy alpha, and that's when his life tumbled out of control. He met Derek, the broody, hot, ill-tempered beta-turned-alpha, and he stupidly fell in love with him. It's not like he meant to fall in love with the asshole, _it just happened_, okay? But it was the best thing to happen to him. His father found out, and with much convincing, everything was okay. It wasn't perfect, but it was okay. Derek created a new pack and everything was fine.

Until everything wasn't fine anymore.

The Argents, damn them, came into Beacon Hills firing their guns and causing all sorts of problems. The war in Stiles' quiet, small little town had started, and it wouldn't be over any time soon. Allison Argent, the daughter of Chris and Victoria Argent, the leaders of the hunters in Beacon Hills, fell in love with Scott, and Scott, the idiot, fell in love with her, too. So they all came up with a plan to leave. The night they were getting out of town, a call came into the Sheriff's station that there was a rogue Omega on the Preserve. Stiles begged his father not to go, screaming that he would be caught in the crossfire's of silver bullets and teeth, but the Sheriff had a job to do.

And he did it well.

Stiles and his friends left that night, and Stiles never heard from his father again.

After that, the world divided itself into allies and hunters. Stiles had never seen so many dead bodies and so much blood before in his life. The first time he shot a gun, the shock spread through his body like a wildfire and he had nightmares for a week. They skipped from town to town, finding allies where they could and trying their damnedest to stay out of hunters' way. Allison's face was all over the news. "Hunter daughter kidnapped by a rogue pack of werewolves. Kill on sight." Yeah. _Right_.

They lived on the run for three years, and they were relatively safe. Sure, they had a few slipups, but all in all, life was pretty good for being wanted and hunted.

Until it wasn't good anymore.

They had a cabin in the woods of Ireland. They were completely off the radar. It would pretty much be impossible to find. But somehow, they had been found. The hunters came in mercilessly and everyone scattered.

Stiles bit his tongue, holding in a little yelp of surprise when he was pulled down into a little ditch in the ground. A large, strong hand clamped over his mouth and Stiles' fingers trembled on the trigger of his gun.

"Stiles," A low whisper carried to his ears. A voice he knew all too well. After his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was Derek. His Derek. Alive. Safe. Covered in mud but still beautiful. _Alive_.

"Oh, thank god!" Stiles threw his arms around his boyfriend and squeezed him as tight as he could. Derek tensed in his arms, hugging him back just as tight, and when Stiles pulled away, blood was on his hands. From what little light there was, he could make out a wound on Derek's right shoulder, crying blood, turning purple. "Silver bullet?"

Derek nodded. "I'm fine." Stiles shifted under his hooded gaze as he cataloged all the blood on his human mate.

"Boyd's." Stiles said regretfully. Boyd was dead. Stiles had seen him fall just a few feet away from him. Derek said nothing, but the tight line his lips were in and the flash of red in his eyes spoke volumes.

A few yards away, multiple gun shots exploded, followed by a chorus or agonized screaming, settling on dying howling. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain the tears. He knew those screams anywhere; Erica and Isaac. Dead. They were dead. Or on the verge of death. More of his friends. More of Derek's pack. Gone. And there was nothing they could do about it.

Running feet were pounding closer, and when Stiles opened his eyes back up, he cocked his gun and stood up so fast, not even Derek had time to stop him. Holding his breath, the young man fired his weapon, shooting at the moving shadows of the hunters. Some managed to fire back before they fell. More howls echoed through the night and Stiles could only hope that Scott, Cora, Lydia, and Allison got away before they died, too.

The bodies of the hunters all hit the ground and Stiles fell back into the ditch, breathing heavily. More hunters were coming, but for now, they were safe. Stiles looked up to see Derek's glowing crimson eyes and smiled faintly.

"Got em." He mumbled, then a sharp, searing pain exploded through his abdomen and he sucked in a sharp breath. No. _No_! He didn't even feel it when it happened. Derek gasped and pulled his boyfriend close, trying to control himself. He pressed a hand tightly on the bleeding wound and tried to take away as much pain as he could from his lover.

"Stiles. Oh god, Stiles. Please, hold on. Hold on. You're going to be okay. I swear, you're going to be okay. Stiles, please. Don't close your eyes. Hold on." Derek begged and pleaded with the younger man, but Stiles was starting to shake and his eyes were drooping.

"S'okay…y'know…it doesn't hurt anymore." He voice was thinning. Derek's ears twitched, more hunters approaching. He counted seven.

When Stiles let out a rasping breath, Derek's eyes and attention were fully back on him. He pressed his palm harder on the wound, but the blood wouldn't stop flowing. At this rate, he was going to bleed out in seconds. All he could do was make it less painful. And that killed him. "Stiles…" The older man's voice cracked in despair and brokenheartedness. Why wasn't he fast enough to pull Stiles back down into the ditch? Why did this have to happen? Why Stiles? Why? Why? _Why_?

"Why so glum, Sourwolf?" Stiles asked playfully, his eyes starting to close from the weight of death pulling them down. "I see the sun. It's beautiful." When he smiled, his teeth were caked in blood.

"I'm so sorry I dragged you into this. I'm so sorry." Hot tears flushed down Derek's face and he bent his head down, resting his forehead on Stiles'. He held his hand tighter, trying to take as much pain from him as he could.

"…was my choice, idiot." Stiles laughed a little, and it broke Derek's heart even more. "I don't 'gret it. Everything we did had purpose and it was amazing…" His eyes closed and his body grew still. His heart stopped and Derek shook him.

"Stiles. Stiles!"

Stiles' eyes fluttered open and he groaned. "M'tired…just wanna sleep…"

Derek squeezed his eyes shut and cringed, the weight of the truth finally settling down on him. He pressed his lips to Stiles' in one last chaste kiss, letting all of his love pour into his mate. "I love you." Derek's voice cracked into a million pieces and a ghost of a smile traced itself on Stiles' face.

"I know. I love you, too, Sourwolf." And then Stiles closed his eyes again, and this time they didn't open back up. Derek sat there in the dirt, holding the man that he loved in his arms, not wanting to let him go.

The footsteps of the hunters were growing dangerously closer. Derek slowly and gently set Stiles' lifeless body down on the dirt. Stiles was gone. His pack was wounded and if they weren't dead they were dying and he wouldn't be able to save them. Everything that drove him to fight was gone, yet he stood up and called to his wolf, who was all very eager to slaughter the men who took everything from him.

He looked to the pitch black sky and let out a howl of sorrow with the promise of vengeance. In the distance, a long howl called back to him. The hunters were just feet away, their guns raised. Derek smirked and bared his fangs. He ran at them with every last ounce of fight he had left.

Just because they had lost this battle, didn't mean that they would lose the war.

* * *

**a/n: posted this on tumblr, thought i might get some more feedback on here. the inspiration for this came from listening to bleeding out by imagine dragons for the first time and shit. that song has sterek written all over it. so. i hope your feels go wild because it made me sad writing this and. yeah. sterek. sterek feels everywhere.**


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